


Three Blind Mice

by Phoebsfan



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-24
Updated: 2002-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebsfan/pseuds/Phoebsfan
Summary: Cat and Mouse. Clocks and guns. What happens when your lies come undone?
Relationships: Sydney Bristow/Michael Vaughn
Kudos: 1





	Three Blind Mice

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The old weathered hands move so slowly, as if time itself were refusing to put the past behind, afraid of that next new second where anything could happen. The pendulum swinging freely back and forth, not knowing that with it’s every swing it was bringing itself closer to death.

The wood casing, chipped on the bottom right corner where she had run into it on her roller skates when she was five. Daddy hadn’t been happy about that. No skating in the house.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Shock.

She knew it’s familiar face. It’s treacherous taste. She knew it like the back of her hand…one freckle on her right knuckle, just below her pinky. A faint white scar on first joint of her forefinger.

Carving, she’d been at camp and they’d been carving soap of all things. The pocketknife slipped and she’d had a mark ever since.

It was a safe mark. One she didn’t resent, one that she could thank her maker for. The blood that had flowed from that wound at least, had been innocent unknowing blood. Childlike.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

How did things turn so quickly?

Dinner. Dinner with her father, with Sloane and a few of his associates. Then blood and death and murder and running. Lots of running.

Then the clock. Ticking closer and closer to discovery. Closer and closer to death.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Ticktockticktockticktock…

Dizziness temporarily blocked out her vision and she knew she should try and regain control of her hurried breathing. Hyperventilation was not an option she could afford right now.

Everything was moving so fast…so slow…in circles. The clock…one hand passing another. Her father, pacing in the other room on the phone.

Trying to keep his voice down, but unable to hide the sudden fiery bursts of anger.

Ticktockticktockticktock

She clutched at the arm of the sofa; it’s floral print soft and rough, dry and damp from her sweat. Clinging to stay upright. To ground herself.

She looked down at her hand, pale against the dark greens and blues. Red streaks running down her arm, escaping from the white cloth of her fathers ripped shirt, tied haphazardly around her arm.

She was still in that little black dress, the one Francie…Oh God Francie…let her borrow. Will said…Not Will too…that…ticktockticktock…looked good on her.

TicktockTicktock…

“Sydney! Sydney focus!” Her father demanded as he covered up the receiver with his hand.

Her head snapped up.

Focus.

She could do that.

“They are sending someone over for extraction. They’ll put you in protective custody while the details of your new life are sorted out.”

Focus.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Gunshots.

Why were their gunshots? That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Then there was more running…but not before she blasted the hell out of that mocking clock.

_**Chapter One** _

_**See how they run** _

"Francie!" She called out searching through her closet. It was occasions like this she wished that she got to keep some of her SD-6 costumes. There must have been at least twenty different options for tonight but nothing that Sydney wanted to wear.

Honestly if she had her choice in the matter she'd much rather pull on some pajamas and sit at home playing monopoly with Will and Francie. Dinner with Sloane, her father and some of Sloane's associates was never a good way to spend an evening. Before Emily had passed on things would have been different. She would have lightened the meal up. But Sydney knew that the meal would revolve entirely around business.

That's all Sloane thought about since Emily's passing.

Sighing she dug deeper into her closet trying to discover some hidden dress she'd managed to miss, or better yet a door to another world where she could just disappear to. Of course with her luck Narnia wouldn't be in her closet.

Backing away from the door and calling to Francie once more she plopped down on her bed, pulling her feet up to cross underneath her. She was tempted to call her father and tell him she was ill. She hadn't had a free night in too long. Since Sloane was locking himself up at the office and living and breathing his work he seemed to think that everyone else should as well.

Her back ached, her feet were sore, and her head was throbbing. Surely Sloane didn't need her for some dinner party. She would probably be the only female there and only there so that Sloane could show her off like some kind of toy.

And this is Sydney, superspy. She has successfully completed more missions then anyone else from the office and has proved her loyalty time and time again...

Sydney was tempted to add... she spends her free time trying to destroy everything SD-6 is trying to accomplish. Of course then dinner would turn sour and she'd end up running for her life, which in any scenario is never a good thing.

Sighing once more she turned to the door and opened her mouth to shout for Francie one final time when her voice was spared by Francie's appearance.

"I don't have anything to wear." Sydney whined. "And I'd much rather stay here and play monopoly with you guys..." she pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. "Please tell me I don't have to go."

"Your dad is showing you some attention and inviting you to dinner for your birthday and you want to cancel on him. No Syd. I'm not going to let you cop out of this. Now get up." She'd forgotten she'd lied about dinner.

She didn't remember why she'd lied. But it was second nature to her now anyway.

Francie grabbed one of Sydney's arms and pulled her to her feet. "Come on. We'll find you something to wear from my closet, since all your clothes seem to have disappeared." She dragged her best friend to her closet.

Syd flopped down on the bed with a groan and traced the patterns on the bedspread with her finger.

"If I go you'll miss me." Sydney tried. Francie ignored her as she dug through her closet.

"Here." producing a black dress. "Stand up and try this on. And you're always gone so that's nothing new."

"Fine." she pouted and snatched the dress from Francie's hands. "But only because you're making me." Francie chuckled.

"You'll thank me later." And with that Francie left her alone.

Sydney slowly made her way back to her own room. If she had to go she could at least prolong it. Car trouble, traffic, there were numerous excuses she could use. At least they'd never know she was lying her ass off. Sloane had taught her well.

The dress fit perfectly and the rest of her routine seemed to move faster then she'd planned. When she clipped the last diamond to her ear she glanced over at the clock and swore. She'd only be five minutes late if she left in ten minutes. And she didn't have any more excuses.

She'd be early. Luck didn't seem to like her tonight.

Slipping her heels on she gave herself one last look in the mirror, noted that there wasn't anything else she could do, and resigned herself to leaving her bedroom.

As she slipped into the living room she noticed Will setting up the Monopoly game and decided to give it one more try, flopping down on the couch behind him.

"Do I really have to go?" She whined as Francie came into the living room with a bowl of popcorn.

"Yes." She spit out as she sat on the ground opposite Will.

"Not to be the devil's advocate here by why does she have to go?" Will asked, giving Syd a smile.

Francie simply glared.

"Yeah Syd, sorry but you have to go." Will chuckled. "Besides, you always win and I think I could really take Francie down tonight. I'm feeling lucky."

"In your dreams." Francie muttered and chucked a kernel of popcorn at Will.

"Alright fine. But when I get home we are mocking movies together." Sydney stood, brushed at some imaginary lint and gathered all the mental strength she could muster. Grabbing a light jacket and her purse she opened the door to leave but paused.

"Syd. Just get it over with." Francie called out when she didn't hear the door close.

"She's right. You look amazing by the way. Now get out of here." Will chucked a kernel at her and Sydney smiled.

"When I get back you're gonna pay for that."

The plan was to drive to her fathers and then ride with him to Sloane's mansion. A place she hated since she'd discovered the truth. Every room spoke of wealth Sloane didn't deserve. Sitting in his home only reminded her of everything wrong with the world.

Dinner was as she expected.

Dull.

Long.

And it only served to fuel her anger at the man. Business was all that was discussed. And she had no idea why he'd insisted she be there because he all but ignored her presence all night. It was when they were leaving that things turned...odd.

Sloane received a phone call and then called her father aside.

"Sydney I'm sorry to do this but Sloane needs me to go look into something immediately. He's offered to drop you at my place so you can pick up your car."

And then her father was gone. She was still wondering why her father didn't just drop her there himself, it was on the way to the office. He must not have been going to the office. Which was just great. A nice car ride with Arvin...who had a driver. So why didn't he just have the driver drop her off?

Apparently he wanted to talk with her.

Except as they drove he was silent. Silent and still as his knuckles turned white under his death grip on the steering wheel. Against her better judgment she turned to him.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine Sydney." He spoke with his award winning smile that simply served to creep her out.

She turned her attention back to the road and noticed they'd missed a turn.

"My car is at my dad's. And the turn was back there." She offered to the awkward silence.

"I know. I thought I'd just drop you off at home. I don't want to worry about you driving home alone at this time of night. I'll have someone drop your car off later." Yeah he'd probably have someone bug it as well. And why the hell did he invite her to dinner if he didn't want her driving home? Nothing was making any sense and suddenly she wished that she'd passed on that last glass of wine.

Things seemed a little fuzzy around the edges, which was not a feeling she wanted to be having alone in Sloane's car.

When they pulled up at her place the door was open...light spilled out onto the porch. She didn't wait until the car stopped before she jumped out and ran toward the door.

"Francie! Will! Fran........" She clutched at the door frame, trying to keep herself on her feet as her stomach turned.

Monopoly money lay in scattered heaps, the edges coated in red, soaking up the mess on the carpet. The popcorn spilled across the board. A dark hand, covered in blood rested in the mess of popcorn.

Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, trying not to breath in the sickly scent of blood and death as everything in her vision seemed to turn that same shade of red that stained the carpet, curtains, sofa... Making her way over to the bodies of her friends, her shoes squishing in the carpet...

Warm.

They were still warm.

Dropping to her knees she flipped Francie over and searched for a pulse as tears ran down her cheeks.

God no.

Godnogodnogodnogodno....

Dead.

Deaddeaddead...

Will.

"NO! Oh God. No!" sobbing she rocked his dead body in her arms. Adding his blood to the mess Francie's broken body had left on her.

"It was necessary Sydney." His cold voice rang out.

She was on her feet and lunging at his throat before she could stop and think otherwise.

"Bastard! You lying fucking bastard!" She clawed at his face drawing blood before he knocked her away with the butt of his gun. She had not noticed he'd been carrying one before.

"You betrayed me Sydney. You knew the consequences of that." She stopped eyes widening. What could he know? She'd been careful.

"Dixon informed me he has had doubts about you. You were monitored..."

Vaughn! Did he get Vaughn too?!

"...it's clear you are a mole for someone. Before you die...who are you working for?"

Ha! He didn't know.

She smiled. Trying not to feel euphoric about that fact.

"Fuck you!" She smiled.

And then she ran.

Heavy heels hitting the pavement hard, fast, not looking back.

There was a sting in her arm and a loud bang that sent her tumbling to the ground, skinning her knees, causing her to lose a shoe. But she picked herself up and started running again.

Hiding in alley's, cutting through bars, staying off the road so Sloane couldn't drive by and take her down.

She ran all the way to her father's house, reached under the doormat looking for a key but the door flew open and she was pulled in quickly.

"I've been suspicious of Sloane's actions lately, when he sent me away tonight I came here. When you didn't show up I called your place and no one answered. I was just on my way out to see if something happened." Her father explained pulling her into the living room and sitting her on the couch.

Tearing a sleeve off of his shirt and wrapping it around her arm.

"He knows I'm a mole, he killed Francie and Will...tried to kill me. He doesn't know I'm CIA." she informed her father as she tried to catch her breath.

"The bullet just knicked your arm. I'm calling Devlin. You're going under."

She didn't have the energy to protest.

_**Chapter Two** _

_**The King's Men** _

Her father was as good as dead. When Sloane had finally shown up and she'd been too distracted, to unfocused and hazy to do anything but destroy a damn clock and run again, he'd made sure to put enough holes in the place.

Honestly, she was amazed to get away with out a scrape.

Tonight seemed unreal to her. How things could change so quickly, and go so far out of her control... it just didn't seem possible.

But then it had always been a possibility.

She was clean, she'd been wandering for an hour just making sure of that fact. Sloane was smart but it seemed she had hit an incredible streak of luck. But that didn't mean she was willing to test it. Previous experience told her all lucky streaks came to an end, most ended before one would like. She wasn't about to be caught out in the streets of LA when her's ended.

Thus the dilemma. Who was she going to run to next?

The answer was painfully obvious. One phone call and she could be on her way to a new life.

Unfortunately however she was rather attached to her current life. Sydney Bristow may not have been the best of friends, always out of town and not very reliable. She may not have been the best student, missing class and handing in paper's late. But that didn't make her any less of a person. She was who she was and she was not ready to go and reinvent that just yet.

Of course that would mean that sooner or later Sloane would hunt her down and her life wouldn't need to be reinvented because Sloane, the great and wonderful man that he was, wouldn't be able to find it in his heart to let her.

Coming across a pay phone she resigned herself to making the phone call. But a passing car caused her instead to run for the cover of the nearby ally. She was being painfully obvious, but there was no chance of her looking like a perfectly content citizen with a black evening gown on a piece of torn shirt, blood soaked, tied around her arm, and her bare feet. (The heels had been forgotten long ago.)

She was grateful enough that it was late and things were relatively quiet in this part of town.

The car's headlights illuminated a street sign, and for the first time since her blind flight from her father's she started taking in her surroundings.

She was glad now that her handler had insisted upon having her mesmerize a few addresses and numbers. There was a safehouse right around the corner from where she was.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A phone call at this time of night only meant one thing.

Sydney.

Vaughn rolled over and reached blindly for the phone, fully expecting to hear her voice.

"Sydney's missing. Sloane is on to her. He had someone kill her roommate and Tippin."

It was not the voice he expected. Devlin in fact, was the last person he ever wanted to hear from at... rolling over he looked at his clock...two in the morning.

"Agent Vaughn did you hear a word of what I just said?" Devlin demanded.

Oh he'd heard it...something about...Sydney...Missing!

Vaughn sprang up in bed words tumbling out of his mouth.

"Does Sloane know who she's working for? What do you mean missing? Is she dead? What about her father? I'm on my way!"

Fighting with the sheets that clung to his legs, he kicked his way to freedom and placed his feet on the cool hard wood floor.

"Apparently Sloane isn't sure who she's working for and I just heard from Jack, apparently Sloane tried to get to her at his place. Both got out but he lost track of her in the mess. I need you to stay right where you are Agent Vaughn. There is nothing you can do here, and I don’t need another agent in the way."

"In the way! I'm her handler. I'm in charge of her. I should be there!" he answered amazed that Devlin had the nerve to tell him he'd be in the way. It was his job!

"You'll be kept informed. She'll call for extraction when she can. And if she doesn't..."

If she didn't then they were too late anyway.

Just as he was about to try and bargain his way into headquarters, Devlin hung up on him.

Sure. Now what was he supposed to do? Sleep?

The idea was more then laughable. The women he lo... The person he...

Well Sydney was in trouble. Running around this godforsaken excuse of a city, alone, most likely unarmed, with a madman on her tail.

And he was supposed to sit back and wait for something to happen.

He could deal with Devlin later, Sydney might not have a later if he didn't do something quickly.

The cool smooth surface of the floor brushed against his bare feet as he rushed to his closet. Flinging it open, he ripped the first items his hands brushed off of their hangers and flung them over his shoulder and onto the bed while hunting for the nearest pair of shoes. All the while trying to figure out where she might go.

He'd had her memorize a few addresses in case something like this happened, but he doubted she'd be eager to run to a CIA safehouse unless she felt she was truly out of options. And that was something Vaughn highly doubted Sydney would ever feel. He knew she'd rather go down fighting then run away. Which only worried him more. She was not in any position to be taking on SD-6.

There was a knock on his door.

He knew who it was but he was having a hard time believing it.

There was one address he'd thrown in a few months ago, told her it was a new safehouse, lied to her. Even Weiss would have turned his ass in if Vaughn had let his good buddy know he'd given Syd his home address in disguise.

When Syd found out... she'd be pissed.

Still it didn't matter how pissed she'd be, she'd be alive, and in his sight. She could have the Ebola virus and he wouldn't care as long as he could keep and eye on her.

Rushing to the door he flung it open and pulled a very disheveled and frightened excuse for a double agent into his apartment, quickly shutting the door behind him and locking it.

"Were you followed?"

"No. I... no..." She leaned heavily against the back of his leather sofa, her black flowing dress mixing with the black of the furniture.

It was then he noticed the contrasting white and red.

"Shit you're hurt." His fingers flew at the makeshift bandage, uncovering her wound. She remained silent and let him lead her to a seat on the couch behind her.

She watched him hurry out of the room and return with a first aid kit. Listened as he fussed with her wound, assured her it wasn't too bad. "Nothing that won't heal on it's own." Asked her if she was hurt anywhere else.

It was too bad there wasn't anything in his first aid kit to fix the shattered pieces of her soul.

She didn't cry though, she didn't scream out, rage against Sloane and vow for revenge. She instead sat quietly. Doing nothing except what Vaughn asked her to do. Saying nothing unless it was absolutely necessary. Letting the chill sink into the hollows of her skin, the once strong structure of her bones. Letting the cold wave of weariness wash over her and fill every empty plane.

"Sydney?" He was kneeling in front of her.

"How did you know I'd be here?" She finally asked, letting her mind start to take in her surroundings after he'd bandaged her arm and covered her almost bare shoulders with a blanket.

His face answered her question. His face and his attire, plaid pants and a t-shirt. His face and his attire, and the furnishings. This wasn't a safehouse. This was his home.

"Vaughn you idiot! What the hell would have happened if I was followed huh?! I can't believe you'd do this!" She discarded the blanket as she flew to her feet, pushed him out of the way, and made her way to the door. "I can't stay here and put you in any more danger!"

Strong hands gripped her elbows from behind. "I'm not letting you leave."

"I can't lose you too! God, I can't lose you too!" This time she felt tears sting her eyes. And memories of Francie and Will...and....

He caught her as she fell backwards into his arms in tears. Turned her around to face him as she murmured and sobbed. Her sharp cries of pain stinging him. Her mumbled, "I can't lose you too." tightened his arms around her.

“It’s ok. I’m not going anywhere.” He soothed as he pulled her toward the couch again. She offered no resistance and wearily plopped down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, burying her face in his neck, and clinging to him as sobs racked her worn and freezing frame. He pulled the blanket tighter around her.

And they sat. Waiting.

If she had been followed they’d know it soon enough. And there wouldn’t be much they could do about it.

Vaughn trusted that even in her emotional state she’d had the presence of mind to make sure she wasn’t followed. He trusted even more in the fact that she’d made it to his apartment, clear on the other side of town. Sloane wanted her dead and he had enough power to shoot her in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day, and still get away with it. He wouldn’t have hesitated.

And he wouldn’t have let any door stand in the way.

If she had been followed they would have been dead.

After forty minutes of nothing, he decided that she’d shaken any tails.

The next thing to do would be to call his superiors and arrange a safehouse for his guest. Fun thing though, those safehouses… With a mole in the CIA a safehouse really didn’t seem like the safest place for this agent. Especially when no one knew she was here, safe, with him. She’d said herself that Sloane didn’t know who she was working for. Which likely meant that his face had not been entered into the equation.

Sloane would have had an address and an occupation if he had his face.

Someone had intercepted her last deadrop. It must have been one of Sloane’s. He hadn’t met with her since before the intercept, two weeks to be exact. Which meant that if Sloane had been recently informed of Sydney’s double agent status, he might not be in the picture at all. Which would make his apartment the safest place she could be.

Safe because no one would be looking. Safe because he knew he could keep her safe. Maybe he was being stupid but he didn’t trust anyone else with the task. And moving her was just another risk of exposure.

No it was better if she stayed with him for awhile, stayed out of sight until things settled a bit. Then they could smuggle her where ever they needed to. Then she could get a new identity. When Sloane wasn’t looking.

With the matter firmly resolved in his mind he cast his eyes down on the woman resting in his arms.

She was sleeping. Amazingly enough.

He tried not to feel that warm glow, the one that she gave him in the quiet moments they spent together. The one he felt when she complimented him on his plans. The one he felt when he knew there was something unprofessional about their behavior.

She was tired. That was all. She was tired and had been through as much of hell in one night as anyone could be expected to handle. It meant nothing that she was in his arms tonight and not somewhere else. It meant even less that she trusted him enough to relax and eventually sleep by his side.

She was tired.

Still he couldn’t help but feel a small amount of that glow resting on him as he cradled her in his arms and walked her to his bed. Slipping her small form under the covers and tucking her in.

Her hair resting on his pillow, the way she slept so peacefully…

He swallowed a lump in his throat as the urge to kiss her cheek, slide in next to her and hold her hit him like a semi.

He had failed to think of that aspect.

Maybe his place wasn’t the safest place after all. It’d be fine for her.

But what about him.

_**Chapter Three** _

_**Crying Wolf** _

He'd left her in his room, sleeping on his bed, and found himself residing on the couch.

The first beams of sunlight were peaking through the curtains when he woke to hear strangled sobs coming from his room, broken by violent gagging, and a sound that could only mean one thing.

Leaving his spot on the couch he hurried into his room to find her sobbing, kneeling on his bed, her head over the edge as the bitter noise was broken again and again as she vomited onto the hard wood floor.

Grabbing a bucket he kept next to the bed for trash, he handed it to her between cycles, then hurried around to the other side of the bed where he slid behind her. Wrapping one arm around her waist as he held her hair back with his other hand. Murmuring nonsense into her ear as the sobs tore through her, bringing everything out with them.

After twenty or so minutes her cries turned into soft murmurs and her stomach settled. He slipped out from behind her and came around to take the bucket from her while noting that her dress hadn't been spared. Sitting on the bed next to her he set the bucket on the ground near his feet and grabbed a tissue from the table beside his bed, using it to wipe gently at her mouth.

She took the tissue from him and for a moment sat completely still and silent.

"I'm sorry about the mess." she finally mumbled, looking down at her dress.

He lifted her chin with his fingers, her skin scorching him with it's forbidden softness.

"Hey. I'm only surprised it didn't happen earlier. You've been through a lot tonight. More then anyone should have to go through...." he paused, contemplating what would happen if he drew her into the protective embrace his arms ached for.

She only nodded and shifted uneasily. Wondering what she would do now that she was stuck here. Vaughn wouldn't let her walk out the door looking like she did...he probably wouldn't let her out even if she didn't look like hell. And now that she had nothing to wear but a dress that reeked of bile... She sighed.

He took the cue and continued. Grabbing the bucket by his feet he left the room, sparking curiosity in Sydney. She wondered if he intended for her to follow.

Deciding he would have said something if he did, she sat and waited, taking in his room for the first time.

It was clean and sharp. His bed, mission style, was blanketed in black cotton while the frame stood out with a rich mahogany glow. Being careful to avoid the mess she made on the floor, Syd slid out of the bed, running her fingers over the matching mahogany night table as her feet hit the cool hardwood surface.

She padded barefoot, over to a low bureau, it's cedar scent spicing the air. She smiled as she took in the almost empty surface. His CIA identification, her fingers traced lazily over his picture as she paused momentarily, lingering over it. A jar of loose change. A few crumpled bills. Car keys. Manila folders she was sure held information on some trip or another.

Sighing she pushed away from the dresser and headed toward the only window his room held. Ivory curtains contrasted against the black of the blinds. Vertical slits of light spilled into the room as her fingers pulled the blinds apart to peer out. His window had an excellent view of an alley, complete with dumpster.

"Didn't pick this place for the view." she jumped as his voice broke the silence. Turning she saw him standing in the door holding what appeared to be clothing.

"The bathroom is through there." he pointed at a partially open door on the other side of the room. Then crossed the distance to place the pile in her hands gently. She nodded then slid silently into the other room closing the door behind her.

Vaughn didn't move until light spilled out from under the door.

As he waited for her to return, he quickly removed the evidence of her shock and pain, wondering what she had thought of his room.

Amazingly enough she had missed the bed entirely. He wondered if he should change the sheets anyway.

Her reappearance however ended the question.

"I... the dress is soaking in the sink." she hoped he wouldn't mind. She didn't know what else to do with it. Not quite able to throw it away, but not sure if she should save it. She wasn't sure she wanted to think about it anymore.

Instead she opted for her current attire. Wondering where he had gotten the gray drawstring pants, that were only a little too loose. The King's t-shirt was too small for him, even though it hung from her sharp frame.

Choosing to find a topic of conversation that wouldn't result in tears, she climbed back onto the bed, crossing her legs and pushing her hair behind one ear, catching her bottom lip with her teeth, as her fingers played with the hem of one pant leg.

"I wasn't sure if they would fit you or not." he broke the awkward silence. She furrowed her brows as she caught his gaze. Her mind refusing to cut through the haze that trapped it. If what would fit?

"The clothes." he offered, unsure if he should sit next to her or leave her entirely. She scooted over on the bed making room for him, indicating silently that he should sit. He gladly obliged her.

"They're my sister's." he added bluntly. Answering her unvoiced questions. Or the questions he thought she'd have asked. He'd never felt so unsure around her before. Never felt like he was tripping over his tongue and making a complete fool of himself. He wished she would speak. She had yet to do that since she'd woken up. And her silence scared him.

Pushing her hair behind her ear again she ended his torment. "I didn't know you had a sister."

"Madeline. We call her Maddy though. She's two years older then me. And shares my passion for the Kings." he tried for a smile as he tugged at the hem of her shirt. She rewarded him weakly and when he went to pull his hand away she grabbed it and tugged on it gently. Guiding his arm around her and leading them both back to the head board. She rested gently on his shoulder as he rested against the board.

"Does she live with you?" Sydney asked quietly grabbing his other hand and placing it on the hip farthest from him, encasing herself in his arms. Needing to feel him close, to anchor herself in reality.

"She did for about two months. She was having problems with her partner so I let her stay for awhile. She hasn't gotten all of her stuff out yet." he explained. Wanting to squeeze her closer, not believing she was really there, in his bed, in his arms. Needing some kind of assurance that this was real.

"I take it she and her boyfriend patched things up." she felt his chuckle and was surprised at the warmth it caused in her.

"Not quite." he shifted next to her. "But she did move back in with her girlfriend if that's what you wanted to know." She couldn't help the look of surprise as she turned to him to see if he was playing with her.

He chuckled again.

"I'm sorry... I just never. It didn't occur to me... I mean I guess I." She stuttered and flipped her hair behind her ear.

"You thought that with a dad deeply rooted in protecting this country. Patriotic to a fault. And a mother who hates the fact that her son has followed in his father's footsteps because she's afraid she's going to loose him to this country like she did his father. You thought that my parents would be anything but accepting of her choice." he smiled.

"My father never knew, if he had you're right. He probably wouldn't have smiled. My mother had a hard enough time accepting it. Old fashioned..." he mused. "That's what Maddy likes to call it. She's always been the trouble maker in the family." he grinned.

"I find that hard to believe." she managed a smile.

"Never having a brother I thought I was safe from fighting over girls with my siblings." he joked. "I didn't realize until she told us, that she'd been the reason for more then one of my high school romances demise."

Sydney snuggled deeper into his arms. Feeling safe for the first time in too long. She let his warm voice roll over her as her eyelids grew heavy.

"She must be gorgeous then." her tongue softly betraying her. She was too tired and worn to care how he interpreted it. Maybe he'd get it right. Maybe he'd brush it off. Either way she'd be gone in a few days anyway. With a new identity and a new life. She'd most likely never see him again after that.

Vaughn let himself selfishly pull her closer. Hoping that he understood her. Wishing she were truly his.

"Much better looking then me. That’s for sure." he tested. His voice not jesting to match his words, but completely serious.

She only murmured something as she relaxed further in his arms. Neither confirming or denying his suspicions.

She was asleep before he could ask anymore of her. Which was probably the best thing for everyone involved.

\-------------------------------

The sharp shrill of his phone woke him.

Quickly grabbing it off the hook so it wouldn't ring again and disturb Sydney he held it off the hook as he took in their shifted positions. She was using him as a pillow. Her soft brown strands spread across his chest, her hand resting next to her mouth, lips parted slightly.

Her eyes remained closed and her breathing pattern constant and relaxed. The urge to hang up the phone and kiss her inviting lips was ever present. The mumbled sounds coming from the phone stopped him however as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"What?" he whispered fiercely, not happy to be interrupted.

"Where are you? It's almost noon. Devlin's been breathing down my neck and you didn't answer your cell. Sydney's missing. And I have a bad feeling that you are about to complicate things." Weiss demanded.

Vaughn could almost hear his friend's grimace.

"I'm handling it ok."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Tell me you know where Jack is. No one has been able to reach him either."

"Don't worry about it Weiss. I'm sure he'll turn up. Look I'll be in later. Just drop it ok."

"Your working on something with him aren't you?"

"Yes Weiss...that's it. You've figured me out. Jack and I are busy searching LA for Sydney. That's why you caught me at home. We stopped by my place for something to eat before we head out again. Just drop it." Vaughn grumbled before hanging up the phone.

"While your getting my dad something to eat...do you think I could get something too?" Sydney giggled beside him.

He turned to look at her open eyes and smiled back. "How long have you been listening?"

Sydney wondered if she should tell him the truth, that the phone woke her up, that she'd pretended to be asleep for his caress.

"Long enough to know you're feeding my father." she joked instead. He rolled his eyes and moved to leave her but something in her wouldn't let him go and she pulled him back to her.

"Not yet." he nodded and tightened his grip.

They sat in silence. Neither moving. Both refusing to do as much as think. Stealing comfort from flesh on flesh. Lying to themselves about the moment.

The one that would never have to end if they didn't speak. The reality of the situation, never having to descend to wrench away any form of joy they could steal from a world that seemed destined to ruin them both. A world that seemed to revel in the taking of. That mocked any sort of comfort they could find.

Lies.

Sydney tried to brush off the feeling that it was only a big lie, this sitting together. Being in his arms, that not surprisingly seemed to fit her just right. That this too would come to an end. That any feelings resulting from his tight grip were nothing but an illusion. Meant only to cause her more pain when he let go.

Vaughn only tightened his arms. Hoping that they had the impossible power of keeping her there.

Their world...small...no bigger then the bed.

Protected only by the web of lies they'd create to find some moment of peace...

Was not impenetrable.

Was not perfect...it lacked everything they both seemed to need more then air...

Honesty.

And when she slipped from his arms and he rose from the bed without a word. Their small world ceased to be...as if it never was.

He grabbed some clothes and slipped into his bathroom.

She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them as tightly as she could. Listening to the shower. Random droplets screaming through the air, landing only to splash apart on the slick tile, or the hard and near perfect body that used them.

Everything had it's purpose.

Some things were just used more sorely then others. Used until they were stretched so thin they wore through. Sydney wondered what would happen now that she had nothing more to give.

Would she splash like the water on the slick tile under Vaughn's feet?

Be able to run together again as she tumbled down the drain.

Or was she more like the crystal vase her that sat on her father's mantle? The one he'd had forever. Only to be shattered by one of Sloane's bullets as it screamed through her life and tore everything else apart.

Unrepairable.

Resting her chin on her knees, she listened as the water in the bathroom stopped. And let herself foolishly imagine what it would be like to stay here with him forever. To run away with him. Live in some remote area where she could pull him back into the shower with her. Let the warm drops turn cold as they ran down their bodies, oblivious to the chill, only aware of the heat.

Sydney closed her eyes and let the lies filter through her mind. The nice comforting lies. She was too good at creating them. Too good at making herself believe them.

The bathroom door opened and she watched him get ready. Pull on his holster...the one his suit jacket hid... God he'd always looked good in that. Swallowing, she pushed the thought from her mind. He picked up his badge and she shivered involuntarily at the reminder.

It was that badge that had killed Francie and Will. Her carelessness while following what that badge stood for. And it was only foolishness to believe that Vaughn would give up that to run away with her. Folly to even wish it.

When he left it was without a word.

Nothing to tie her to him. Nothing to keep her here.

But she couldn't desert him.

Not when she needed the lies.

**Author's Note:**

> This story had an ending at one point... it's lost to time. It might still be available on sd-1.net if you have access, I do not have access. At some point I might be able to recreate it, but it's been 18 years since it was originally written so it may take awhile if it happens at all.


End file.
